My First Kiss
by kay-pwns
Summary: A collection of theme-less drabbles. Some may be AU, some may not. No progression here.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: _I need to get back into writing.. But I don't have the time for a TOH update right now, because of school. This is random, and sure to be just a little collection of drabbles. Namesake is from 3OH!3. I own nothing. =]

* * *

Jenny Shepard was his boss.

She was professional, but had an undeniable savoir-faire edge. It made her personable, unforgettable.

She could hold her own in any fight: Whether it be physical or a battle of words, he never doubted her. He liked to think that a small portion of that confidence was attributed to him, and her early days at NCIS.

She was beautiful. Porcelain skin contrasted sharply with the fire-red shade of her hair and viridian eyes. She was a force to be reckoned with in whatever she wore: pencil skirts paired with crisp oxford blouses, elegant evening gowns, pant-suits, and even jeans. The ever-high heels she constantly wore to account for her height were annoyingly sexy.

She could be cold and distant without warning, an Ice Queen. The past haunted her as much as it did him. She was untouchable, then – and it was best to avoid her.

But above all else, she was a woman. He knew first-hand how difficult women could be.

How mind-blowing.

Infuriating.

_Sexy._

Gibbs pinned her against her en suite bathroom door, eyes on her face as she knocked her head against the solid wood. His grip on the thigh around his waist tightened, his mouth trailing sloppy kisses down her throat. Jen licked her lips before pulling him in for one more languid kiss, smirking against his mouth. "I enjoyed the view, Jethro," she drawled after a moment, the husky alto of her voice hitting him below the proverbial belt. "I think I'll put a mirror on my ceiling."

He glanced over his shoulder and into his own stark-naked reflexion, and groaned.

Jenny Shepard was many things.

Add unpredictable and voyeur to the list.


	2. Went a little like this

_A/N: _I blame George Strait for this bit of AU fluff... I promise, there will be angst. Likely in the next update, which was originally supposed to be put here, but I was afraid I'd forget this concept. The next one should be up relatively soon, seeing as I have part of it written up. Thank you so much to those who reviewed/alerted/favorited! You flooded my inbox, and it made me incredibly happy. =]

* * *

It was inevitable, really; he and his father had restored that old Charger, and Gibbs felt like he should do the same with Brayden. Create something of a tradition.

He pulled into the driveway slowly, checking his mirrors again to make sure everything was still fine. Fifteen seconds later, his son was half-jumping to the trailer behind his old truck. Brayden touched the rusty door panel as if it were made of gold.

"Dad," he said, glancing back at him uncertainly. Gibbs nodded once, closing the door and leaning on it. "A '69 _Boss? _Are you for real?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Needs some work. You up for it?"

That determined, excited glint in his green eyes – his mother's eyes – told him more than words could ever offer.

* * *

Countless long, frustrating, exhausting nights later, Gibbs looked on with a proud smirk set firmly in place. The kid had been showing the car off for hours: revving the engine, blasting the stereo, doing everything he possibly could – other than actually driving the old Mustang. Brayden had to pay for the tags out of his own money, and he still hadn't gotten his first paycheck yet.

Jen slipped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I'm glad you decided to go through with it," she whispered, planting a kiss behind his ear gently. He turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow at her.

"I thought you 'hated that damn car'?" he questioned, mocking her voice. She grinned and pinched his side, yelping when he spun and started tickling her. She seized his hands after a moment and pulled them down to their sides, catching her breath for a moment before leaning in and kissing his lips lightly, and then again – lingering – when he didn't pull away. Gibbs kissed her firmly then, pushing her back against the porch post. She moved her hand to the back of his neck and he grabbed a generous handful of her ass, smirking inwardly.

"Mom, Dad, PDA!" Brayden yelled, causing Jen to pull away like she'd been burned. _"Grody." _He heard his son mutter, half under his breath.

"If I hear you say _'grody' _again, I'm sending you to the Marines." he growled, frowning. He was not having such things come out of _his _son's mouth.

Besides, Jen's ass and mouth were anything but _grody. _

He felt her tug on his hand and his eyes flicked to their hands – still tightly entwined – and to her pretty green eyes. As she kissed him again, far less innocently than before, he kicked the front door shut behind them.

Leaving their sixteen year old out in the yard with his friends and new car, in favor of slipping upstairs for a quickie? A logical decision in his mind.


	3. And twist

_A/N: _Here's the angst; I needed it. This is Probie Jen, obviously - I believe the Czech Republic mission? _( "You took a round to the thigh." "I had the same bad feeling before that mission." Undercovers, I believe. )_ Thanks again so much for the reviews/alerts/etc!

* * *

This simply had to be a test of faith – one that he wasn't certain he could pass proficiently. It was his fault; he should have been paying better attention to the situation. As good as she was, she was still green. He had gotten sloppy, put too much confidence in her knowledge and abilities. And now, as a result, she lay in unimaginable pain. He longed to take her to a hospital, for Ducky, pain pills – anything. But on foreign soil with such a sensitive operation, he doubted that Morrow would allow such a thing. She had resolved to keep quiet, no doubt able to feel the tension and anxiety in the air, from Decker and from him. Gibbs was certain the image of her screaming into the pillow as he extracted the bullet from her thigh would be forever engraved in his mind. The two of them were more than partners, more than _"friends with benefits", _at least in his mind. Hesitantly, he stepped back into the make-shift bedroom where she lay. The air was heavy, and she was barely conscious – had been that way for what felt like hours. He settled on the old mattress lightly, wary of disturbing her leg. Wringing out the wash cloth, he swept it gently over her face and neck, wiping away the sweat that had begun to form yet again. Her green eyes, immeasurably dulled, darted over his features, noting the guilt and stress written there.

"Finish this," she whispered. Seeing he was about to protest, she managed to lift her hand and cover his mouth; a move she resorted to quiet often. The skin of her palm was cold and clammy against the stubble of his face. _"Go." _More firmly this time, using all that she could manage. "I screwed up, Jethro. But there's still a job to finish," she dropped her hand, her body tensing as she began to breathe tightly from the pain. Her nails dug into his skin slightly. "Get the fuck out of here."

Her voice was hoarse and he understood that she was in pain, but the words still cut. It was possible that she meant it – more than likely she did, being the careerist she was – but he hoped to God she didn't. Still, he couldn't sit in silence as she suffered any longer; he needed something to do, to be able to move and think about something other than his lover's mangled flesh.

So he stood, stepping back from the bed and taking his SIG from the card table nearby. He concealed it in his waist and left the room, shutting the front door firmly behind him. And then he forced himself not to look back.


	4. Lips like liquorish, tongue like candy

_A/N: _Kay is feeling angsty. She has indeed missed it. ( Third person love? ) As for Lilith, if you're not familiar: I recommend that you look up Dante Gabriel Rossetti's poem, "Lilith". I am quite fond of it myself. Thanks again for the reviews/alerts/etc! I appreciate them. _( M & M's... I have pleased one and dismayed the other. But I love you both? :3 )

* * *

_

"_Don't apologize. It's a sign of weakness."_ The first lesson Jethro had taught her. The only one she disagreed with to this day.

Apologies could be meaningless; she gave him that. However, judging by how incredibly difficult it was for her to look him in the eyes and actually form the words, it took an incredibly strong person.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs, folding her jacket over her arm neatly. Gibbs looked up at her, taking a generous gulp of bourbon before returning to his work with the boat.

"Senator stand you up, Jen?"

She half-smiled, glancing down at the concrete floor as she stepped forward, laying her jacket and purse on the stool. "No, Jethro," she glanced up at him, not surprised to find that he hadn't turned to look at her. "Can't a girl just stop by to pay her old partner a visit?"

He laughed halfheartedly, turning around and crossing his arms over his chest. There might as well have been a concrete wall between them; his guard was up, making the air a little heavier. "Not without collateral."

"I promise not to take much of your time, Jethro," she said softly, lowering her voice. He tilted his chin up slightly; permission to speak, granted.

Jenny took a deep breath, crossing her arms over her stomach subconsciously. Her manicured nails dug into her forearms. "I'm sorry, Jethro."

Three of the hardest words she'd ever had to say in her life. The two of them constantly butted heads; to admit fault to the other, to give them ammo, was unthinkable.

"Career-wise, I accomplished what I needed to." She met his eyes, forcing herself to hold his hard gaze, despite the overwhelming urge to look down – like a scolded child. "Had I come back with you from Europe, had we... _attempted _to make us work – that never would have been possible. However," she placed a hand on her neck. "My methods were hardly amiable. And I'm sorry for that."

"_Amiable?" _He snorted again. "You were a cold-hearted _bitch, _Jen."

She tensed, straightening defensively. Her green eyes flickered dangerously. "If I mattered so much to you, the logical response would have been to come after me. Six years and _I-" _

"When you realize your partner saw you as another rung of the ladder-"

"Are you saying that I never loved you?" She stepped closer, the gold around her pupils becoming increasingly prevalent, as it always did when she got angry. "You son of a _bitch," _she growled. "I loved you. I have no fucking idea why, but I did. While you have a _pity-party _for yourself, don't you _dare _doubt that."

Gibbs was silent for a long moment, cobalt eyes meeting emerald. She recognized that look, the darkening of that mesmerizing blue. Whereas most couples preferred pillow talk and gentle caresses, angst had been their foreplay from the beginning. She turned from him and grabbed her jacket and purse, recognizing that this would be her only opportunity to leave. A minute longer and the ribs of the boat would be digging into her bare back.

"Jen," he called when she neared the top of the stairs. She paused for a moment, glancing down at him. "Why do you always run?"

She tilted her chin, jaw clenching briefly. "Because I'm your _femme fatale, _Jethro. A Lilith of sorts." Jenny swallowed, closing her eyes for a moment. "I was never right for you."

She ascended the stairs, and walked out his front door; through the snow and to her car, where her detail was waiting. _"Home, ma'am?" _She nodded her head, glancing out the window blankly.

Jenny had relieved herself of one regret. But she was sure she would forever regret not closing the minute distance between them in his basement, because she would never have a more perfect chance.


	5. Excuse me miss

_A/N: _This is me succumbing to the Christmas virus. It may seem OOC - but frankly, everything else I tried to write with a Christmas-theme came out worse. I must thank my best friend for the prompt - I was in need of the help.

Also, in my mind, Jenny Shepard is a foul-mouthed spitfire. In case you haven't caught onto that by now. They just had to censor her for the sake of prime-time television.

* * *

Director Shepard and Gibbs had been dodging each other all week, and Abby Scuito knew it. The sight of the mistletoe _conveniently _hung nearly every ten feet had caused the pair to avoid each other like the plague on purpose. It wasn't particularly easy – she had to cross his path quite frequently. But they had, somehow, made it work. And it was infuriating to the vivacious goth.

She was determined to get them to kiss under the mistletoe before the holiday season passed.

* * *

To be honest, Jen missed Jethro. Avoiding being caught under the surplus of mistletoe in her agency meant that they hardly saw each other. Typically she loved the season, what with its glorious smells, and traditions of over-eating – but now she just wished it was over, so her forensic scientist would be forced to take the dreaded holiday paraphernalia down. She'd even considered ordering her to do so, but she couldn't quite force herself to dampen the girl's spirits. They'd grown particularly close the past year.

She stood with a heavy sigh, pushing a hand through her thick red curls and tousling them briefly. It was well past nine o'clock – the time at which she had planned on leaving for the day – and for once, she was anxious to get out of the building. Perhaps she could coax Jethro out with her. If she leaned over his desk in _this _blouse...

Fuck that. She wasn't going to beg to get him in bed with her.

Jen buttoned her coat – the cream leather one, from their infamous altercation – after tying her scarf around her neck. Deciding she was far enough ahead on her work, she left her briefcase safely tucked beneath her desk, and locked her office door after grabbing her purse. Descending the stairs, she wasn't surprised to find Gibbs at his desk, fingers locked behind his head, feet on his desk, looking quite relaxed. She smiled softly to herself.

"Jethro."

He almost fell out of his chair. He caught himself, standing up and glaring at her.

"Jen," he growled back, unhappy with the amused expression on her face. He noted that she was bundled up and tilted his chin up slightly. "Leavin'?"

She nodded. "I'll walk you out," he said, flicking off his desk lamp. He grabbed his coat and walked to the elevator with her, feeling her cut her eyes at him slightly. The two were comfortable in thinking that there were no other agents or NCIS personnel left in the building.

Until the elevator doors opened.

And Abby glared at them, her arms folded.

"Abs?" Gibbs questioned, arching an eyebrow. The goth simply pointed above their heads, to the mistletoe above the elevator doors.

"I put that there specifically for you, Gibbs." She glanced at Jen, and then him again. "Kiss her."

"What?"

"You heard me. Kiss. Her."

He glanced over at Jen warily. Kissing her was something he enjoyed – and she enjoyed, too – but not in the presence of anyone else. Jenny arched an eyebrow elegantly. "She's not going to let you out of it."

Gibbs frowned and looked back at Abby, a stoic expression on his face. And he stood there, silently, for a long moment.

"Fuck this." Jen mumbled, mostly to herself, and shoved Jethro back against the brick beside the elevator. She kissed him firmly, but slowly – her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket. His hands automatically went to her waist, pulling her closer. She pulled back when she was out of breath. "I'm tired," she mumbled. "I want to go home. And you being a stubborn ass is not going to keep me here any longer than I've already been."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning down to kiss her neck gently – once, twice – and then turned to look at Abby. "That what you wanted?" She nodded quickly, big green eyes blinking. She hadn't expected the Director to be so blunt.

Jen grinned slightly at her, dragging Jethro into the elevator. She slipped her arm into his after pushing the number for the parking garage.

"Keep this to yourself, Ms. Scuito. I'd rather not have the entire agency aware of who I share my bed with."

And with that, she allowed Jethro to walk her to her car as promised.

* * *

_Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays._


End file.
